The Darkiplier Story
by arielbelle
Summary: The first entry is Bronze; This story involves Markiplier and Darkiplier, his alter-ego. In MY version of the story, Darkiplier & Markiplier share a body. However, Markiplier has stated several times he sees Darkiplier as his own entity. No harm no foul. Rated M for mature language and situations. I do not OWN Markiplier (as one cannot own someone) I don't own his ideas.
1. Chapter 1

Completely and obviously nothing more than a fanfiction.

"… What happened last night?" I ask my reflection as I stand in front of the mirror I'd placed in my office. I had woken up on the floor, covered in a dark red sticky substance. I am still hoping for the best, so I won't let my thoughts travel to something sinister like blood. I look for my shirt but I can't find it, I don't look hard because I'm not willing to look down at the mess on the floor. The logical path of reasoning would have me check and see if I have some kind of cut or something, but I ignore it.

In the shower, the substance appears to be blood. I sigh and shake my head, squeezing my eyes shut as I stand under the warm stream, my back screaming in pain. I wish this wouldn't happen at all, especially not as often as it has been. After the shower, I get dressed and move on to the tasks I'd allotted myself to do. After breakfast, I post my newest video. Tyler has done me a solid and has cleaned up the mess, even though I know he probably has a million questions.

As I leave the office, I catch Tyler coming in. He is one of the only people in the world who truly understand me and the things I've been through. He shakes his head and I brace myself.

"Mark…" I know what's next, so I stop him with my hand.

"I don't know Tyler." I refuse to look him in the eyes because I'm about to burst into tears. It's not even remotely fair that I get so emotional lately.

"This is the third time this month." He says as he leads me into the living room. I sit down on the couch as he hugs me. He must know something I don't, with the way he's looking at me.

"Tyler, just come out with it." I say, his eyes trained on me now.

"I think you need therapy." Those words break my heart. I don't want therapy, no matter how much I may actually need it, not that I would admit it to Tyler or anyone for that matter. Therapy for what, anyway? Some strange occurrences where I black out the previous night and wake up in compromising situations in which I can never recall what happened the night before?

"Therapy? Tyler… why?" I ask, and Tyler shakes his head.

"The things you do… well, I know you don't remember them. But I promise you, it's getting harder to contain."

Tyler and I have this pact. I help Tyler with something and he helps me by essentially babysitting me on the nights that I black out. Tyler doesn't necessarily like this job I've talked him into because from what I understand, I don't listen to him.

"What did I do last night?" I'm afraid to ask, but I feel like I should know.

"You don't want to know. Nothing illegal, but something self-destructive."

This news I can handle. I nod. I felt something on my back when I washed it that hurt a good bit, so I assume I definitely did something stupid.

"I'm sure it will be fine Tyler."

He accepts this as my word because he knows I'm shutting down now. Tyler shakes his head but leaves the room quietly, no objections. Sometimes I'm not sure even he knows how to handle me. Standing alone in the room, I feel my food wanting to come back up. With shaking hands, I lift my shirt up exposing my chest. I follow a slight trail of bruising and sigh. I've really done a number on myself this time. I move to face the mirror. Turning around slowly, I glance back at the mirror. There in plain sight on my back, is a hundred or so vertical lines that are in various shades of pink and red with black and purple bruising. With shaking hands, I reach behind myself and feel a few of the lines. They're slightly raised and they throb when I touch them. My hand comes away slightly bloody. It's no wonder there was so much blood on the floor.

The biggest question I have for myself is why in the world would I do this? Why would I hit myself this many times over and over? My second question for myself would be what did I use to create these marks? I decide to go see my room. I usually try to stay out of it the next day after one of my blackouts because it's usually in various states of upset. Upon entering, I see that I'm not wrong. I'd learned a long time ago not to bother putting nice things in my room. My sheets and blankets are thrown about the room, my curtains are on the floor with the curtain rod still in them, and everything on my desk is thrown on the floor all around the room. I see something from the corner of my eye and bend down, picking it up.

In my hand I hold a whip. Yes, a whip like someone would use if they were into BDSM. I shake my head, terrified at what I'd done. My friends and I had gotten it as a joke. Ignorance is bliss and I've had far too much of this. Putting the whip into a safe I keep for the things that I knew I would regret having out, I take the key and walk into the room Tyler currently inhabits. I'd asked him to temporarily move in with me, despite the fact that he'd recently moved into a really nice apartment. Once again, I am fucking something up for him.

In the room, I stumble as I see his back. Now I don't usually stare when Tyler has his shirt off because I'm quite used to it not being on and I don't like him that way, so it's no big deal for me. This time however, I knew something was horribly wrong. There were lots of marks and cuts on his back. The marks were different from the ones I had on his back, so I knew I hadn't used the whip on him.

"Ty..Tyler?" I say, now stumbling over my words. "D-d-did I do that t-t-to your back?' I ask, shaking. I am confused and desperate to be as far away from myself as possible.

Turning, Tyler faces me with his face downcast. "Kind of."

I move my hands to my face, pulling hard on the hair that is falling down into my eyes. Tyler puts his arm out towards me.

"If it makes you feel better, you didn't give me the cuts."

I struggle to understand what he's talking about. Looking him in the eyes, I realize he's still trying to protect me. He's such a good friend and I put him in such a hard place everytime something bad happens.

"You shoved me. I landed on the glass coffee table. I replaced it this morning, while you were making your video. I didn't want you to find out because I knew you'd take it too hard. I'm fine. Seriously."

He was too kind. I'd pushed him down and caused all those cuts and scratches. I'd hurt him…again. I decided to punish myself then. It made more sense to me to do something than for Tyler to keep sticking up for me. I lay in bed, curled up in a ball. Tears form and I try my best not to cry. I don't deserve to have an emotion. My phone beeps and I sigh. I figure it's probably Tyler. He was beating on my locked door in hopes that I would answer and forgive myself for this, but it's not happening. He's gone now. I check and it's Sean. My Jackaboy. I smile a little, allowing myself this indulgence. I'm so happy he's in my life, my best friend. The text is a bit mangled because I apparently dropped my phone or threw my phone last night and cracked the screen all over.

Jack: What's wrong mate?

I reply back quickly.

Mark: There's nothing wrong.

Jack: Are you feeling better? Last night you sounded pretty out of it.

Mark: What? Did I call you?

Jack: Yes, you told me you loved me but that I had to die and you were really sorry about it.

Mark: What?

Jack: I figured you must have been having some fun or having a stroke or something.

Mark: ?!

He didn't answer, maybe not knowing how to reply. I'd gotten several other text messages asking me if I was alright. I didn't even know I'd talked to any of them. And I'd told Jack he had to die? What kind of twisted shit was that?


	2. The Darkiplier Story: Silver

THE NIGHT BEFORE:

It is bedtime and I sit on my bed. The thoughts bouncing around in my head could make anyone cry. That bitch boy Mark has no idea what's really going on. He's left, vacated the premises if you will. I grin to myself, laughing. He's so pathetic it's insane. He's got this routine, this boring ass way of making people happy. Making people happy is for fucking losers. I cannot believe the shit he spews from his mouth. Friendship and love and fucking rainbows. I can't handle it.

It's finally my time again. I can be let loose on the world without bitch boy whining in my head. Without the constant need to help someone. I hate helping people. I'd rather see them die at the hand of the fucking loser than anything else _. Oh Marki, please… be careful what you do. I'd hate to be this far in and drop the ball._

I stand, feeling the power surge over me. Mark is strong, I will give him that. He keeps our body well-tuned. I flex my muscle and smirk. This new muscle he's been getting has come in handy more often than I expected. Thinking of the things that I could do to hurt Mark the most, I decide on calling Jack. Jack is some kind of sick twisted thought of Marks. His feelings are normal healthy friendship feelings except when he flirts with the bastard. It's sick. I call him and with my deep, dark voice, I tell him I love him but he needs to die. The first part sounds like Mark. But it's oh, so me. I call up a few other "friends" of Marks and send similar parting thoughts. I have no intention on carrying these through. My ultimate goal is Mark.

I head through the house. I immediately seek out Tyler, my fucking babysitter. Finding him on the couch staring into his phone, undoubtedly trying to see what girl he could have come over. I roll my eyes. I'll deal with him later.

I access the thoughts that I'd ignored for weeks. There is a careful record set, regardless of how much I pay attention. I'm glad we have a photographic memory. There is a whip from somewhere. Let's just say that if bitch boy regains his consciousness before I can do much else, I'll at least leave him a nice little present. My face lights up like its Christmas. I always wondered why people think that you have to be good to have some nice presents. This memory can sustain me for a while.

I find the whip in plain sight. _Now Mark, surely you're smarter than this._ He'd started slacking. When I arrive, he is usually more prepared. Where's the fun in having everything always your way? I move to go into his office. This will be possibly the worst place to wake up.

Tyler stands up in front of me. I grin maliciously because Tyler is so brave thinking he can stand up to me. He's ridiculous is what he is. I draw the evil smile out.

"You'd be more menacing if I didn't know you so well." I say, and he seems taken back by my voice. He never sees it coming. The stupid git.

"Mark, no." He says, his voice deep. Maybe he's not as sure as he thinks. He still hasn't realized that I'm not Mark.

"Guess again, bitch." I say, moving to go around him. I'll enjoy hurting him but I could be running out of time. Mark's started fighting me more recently and I never know just how much time I actually have. Tyler moves in my path.

"Now now, play nice." I say, pushing him away from me. Instead of moving, he comes closer. I push him harder and he looks more determined. Damn, I figured I'd just get this over with. I didn't intend on taking the time to fight him.

Instead of the bullshit, I decide last minute to push him hard away from me and go to the office and lock the door. I shove him from the side, intending on him to just fall on the floor. The sound of the glass shattering only adds to my glee. It's an added bonus to know that fuckface Tyler would be in pain too.

I pull an errant piece of glass from my cheek and smirk. More pain for Mark. I lock myself in the office, buying myself a little more time. I take off Mark's shirt. I throw it out the open window. Let him find it later.

 _Mark… Markimoo, it's time to come out and play._ I grin, even though I know that there's no way he'll know what's going on. I'll feel the pain too, but I enjoy the pain. The pain makes me feel alive. I'm a sick fuck. Taking the whip, I turn so I can watch the entire beautiful performance with my back towards the mirror and my head turned so I can see. I crack the whip hard, arching it so that it directly hits our back. I revel in the pain, hearing the delicious screams that somehow come out a mixture of Mark's voice and mine. The more lashings I give us, the better it will be in the morning. After I've sufficiently felt the pain I wanted and I knew our back was covered, I move the whip with me through the house. Tyler's awake, but he looks to be in too much pain to move. I smirk at him as I pass. I toss the whip into the bedroom, it lands by the bed. Fine, whatever.

I feel Mark resurfacing. He still won't remember what happened, but he'll push me out of his mind. I fight as hard as I can, moving closer to the office again. I'm not sure why I want him in the office, other than I know that's where I feel most at home. He knocks me out of his mind but I still see flickering. He can lock me up in this corner, but I'm still here.

 _You're pathetic, Markimoo._ I think, and I feel the thought registering in his brain. I'm gone, sucked into silence. I watch as he works his way to the room I had always intended on him going. I see Tyler getting up, but Mark doesn't. It must not register. We reach the mirror once more and I feel our body give out. He crumples to the floor and I feel triumphant.

The body slams on impact and we lose it. Flickering into black like there's nothing else.


End file.
